Blonde Story Short

Date #1 Attractive. fewf. Witty. check. Successful. that's cool. Great first date stats. The missing links, two very important things: real conversation...and dinner. I suggested Old Venice, a charming local Italian restaurant, for a reason...because I was in the mood for a fancy pizza! I totally get the non-committal "let's get a drink thing." I use it all the time! But the whole point of that move is to have the peace-out-early opportunity if the date is going south. If you're staying for another 2 hours anyway, in my humble and almost expert opinion-dinner is a must. Letting that slide I suppose (until home to left over Indian food at 9:30 at night!) I say nothing. I don't want to be that girl, the one that's possibly disinterested but wants a free meal. I am quite the fan of banter; likely unqualified as a dating pro, but most definitely a banter pro! My general attitude, bring it on. Until I have had enough! Then I'll throw a few more zingers at

does it take to describe the blockbuster hit Avatar? "What's Avatar? " "What do you live under a rock? Only the biggest movie in the last 30 years!" "Why?" "Because of the...technology!" "So it's a technical cartoon...like A Bug's life ?" "Yes. That's right. It's like A Bug's life ."

With so much to report on the dating front, I struggle to maintain a focal point. You see, there's an epic battle that goes on in my head (among others): to write on one topic and stay (or at least appear) focused OR to throw it all out there and allow you to experience a sufficient part of the mayhem. In attempt to get to bed at a reasonable hour and less selfishly, protect YOU from establishing an overwhelming disdain for the topic at hand...I will stick to just one thing: The latin man with which I ate a shrimp ceasar. On the third of my 4 dates in four days (shout out to the world wide web) I set out on a latin themed adventure. We met at a Mexican restaurant in...you guessed it, Pacific Beach. The crazy part is that I chose the location, and we know how I feel about PB. On my way to the beloved beach town, running late naturally, I sped through neighborhoods and quickly took in the obscene amount of Beer Pong being played. That's neither here nor there I suppose. A lovely

really terrible...or really, really good at this. I refer to dating. Let me disclaim right off the bat, that I do not rely on my own strength in this area. No, this is not a biblical reference...I currently rely on 29 dimensions that are bigger than I...it's called "online-dating." Lord, seeing that hyphened word in print is just shameful! Welp, got over the shame pretty quickly, feeling alright now... This week I scheduled what I like to call a "Dating Quadruple bypass." The expectation is I'll bypass at least three of the four dates. Nonetheless, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday night all include a beautiful thing...free dinner. I'll be doing a real-life, unscripted version of The Bachelor. I definitely won't be telling any of them that I'm "following my heart" or "falling in love with more than one of them"...or any statement involving the word "journey." Instead, I'll be attempting authenti

"I just want to get to the point where I can be in pajamas, without make up, cuddling on the couch...and farting if I need to." In a discussion about this evening's date, I expressed this deep desire to one of my brilliant man-friends. Then I learned something. His response: "I'm sure he feels the same way...He definitely wants to fart on or around you." Yea. OK .

Some get excited when they go to The Home Depot. New projects, the smell of wood, helpful men in aprons... I however believe that The Home Depot is a little peice of carpenter themed hell (let the irony simmer for a few). Home Depot in my opinion equals two of my least favorite things: feeling ignorant and splinters. I find myself walking around mumbling,"Hi I'm looking to mount something." Hmmm says the handy orange and denim wearing dad. I now wait in line to purchase my something "Gage wire"??? I also have been navigating the warehouse with the remainder of the ply wood spilling over every end of my cart, lookin like I'm in the know about such things of course. I think the confused look on my face along with my houndstooth scarf blew my cover. The jig is up I have no frigen clue what I'm doing here.

"Jack of all trades, master of none." You've heard this before. I like to think of myself as a master of some ...just mostly the ones that don't really matter that much. One of my "masteries" that I've written about often is that of being a bridesmaid. You know how I feel about that "always a bridesmaid..." saying. Don't you even complete the sentence in your head! I have been a bridesmaid more than a handful of times. In fact I have an extensive collection of spring hued dresses in my hallway coat closet. I'd love to write some books one day...lots and lots of books. One of them will be of this very theme, how to be a bridesmaid. I'll address everything from watching out for flirting married groomsmen to being on time for all 10 of the bridal showers (a work in progress for even the best of us). This particular post is an excerpt from the shower chapter of the future best-seller ;) Not shower like that thing I do twice a week, whi

I like to flippantly look through my "Eharm" matches, sort of like casually browsing an US Weekly. I don't spend a lot of time (mostly due to not having it) reading every word, studying every picture and on and on. I'm really just looking for the quick facts and only paying close attention to things that catch my eye. In the magazine this might be an Oscars' fashion centerfold, on the Eharm this could be "Height 6'5"under the basic info portion. For me, there are two options after a quick scan of a profe...to close or to go forward with that first round of significantly deep questions. So I guess it comes down to I either don't care to ever meet you OR I'm interested in knowing how often you find yourself laughing a) You crack yourself up b) You laugh often but get serious when you need to...I think you get the picture here. After a fierce talking-to from one of my parentals, I try really hard not to be "too harsh." It's a go

I should say "in the LEAST cynical way," but it just didn't catch me as much as my grammatically incorrect title written above. It's coming out tonight...The big "C" in me, which by the way, I always initially spell with an "S." The fact that I write this word often enough to have a habit related to it is probably an unfortunate sign, or perhaps one that means I'm super reflective and honest about who I am??? No, it definitely just means I'm a cynic. Damn it. I can't help but write (and put out into the world) something on tonight's current event...and a "status update" on Facebook would just not do the trick. For those of you that followed "The Bachelor: On the Wings of Love" this season, you'll have at least a faint idea of what I'm talking about. For those of you that did not follow, you're WELCOME for giving you this useful and critical opinion on the whole thing...an opinion which I encourage